A Hundred Evils
by Pouf Forayer
Summary: Uchiha Madara won the war and took his rewards - Hinata included. Now, weary and broken, she is given a chance to save the world she once loved. Except this time around, she knows that the only way to defeat evil is to commit evil. Time-travel. Dark.
1. Unravel: Part I

_Disclaimer: _Characters and world belong to Masahi Kishimoto

_Warnings: _Dark. M-rated. Expect any and everything.

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_" . . . She bows her head and composes her face,_  
_Her teeth are pressed on her red lips:_  
_She bows and kneels countless times._  
_She must humble herself even to the servants._  
_His love is distant as the stars in Heaven,_  
_Yet the sunflower bends towards the sun._  
_Their hearts are more sundered than water and fire_  
_**A hundred evils** are heaped upon her. ._ ._"_

- Fu Xuan, "Woman"

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******A Hundred Evils  
**_Unravel:_ 1.01

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

Hinata struggled to kill herself.

Her hands trembled as she tried to find the courage to reach up and pull the noose around her head. It swung seductively before her, its white fiber glinting in the dim sunshine that filtered through her bedroom window. _Go on, _it seemed to whisper. _Free yourself. _

Seven years. Seven years since they lost the Fourth Great War, seven years since everything went to hell.

Uzumaki Naruto fell, blinked out a like a light, and took the hopes of millions with him on his way down.

Yet she continued to fight. Trained, became stronger, until two years later on her seventeenth birthday she was taken. No, no, taken was perhaps too soft a word. Snatched, maybe. No. _Stolen. _That was better. She had been stolen like a babe from its mother, and every day since then proved that there was no escape. Branded in every single way possible, Hinata often wondered how she still managed to breathe. Strength had never come easily to her, but she tried to be strong, honest. Yet it was hard to remain that way when they crushed her bones and soul into dust until all that was left was her decorated corpse.

But heavens, she tried.

She tried so very, very hard.

Faces of everyone she loved flashed through her mind . . .

The noose beckoned again.

_Do it. Your family and friends are waiting for you on the other side._

Once upon a time, Hyuuga Hinata had been normal. She never used to have random bouts of hysteria during tea time, and not once did she ever refrain from sleeping for thirty-two hours straight just because she was afraid of the shadows that crept near her door. Back before the wars started, all she had cared about was reuniting the broken pieces of her clan and healing the wound that had been created by archaic laws and bitterness. Now that dream was gone, destroyed. Just like everything else she had ever cherished.

She was so deep in thought that she barely registered the shoji door sliding open behind her.

"Hinata-chan, we've discussed this. Please do not commit suicide on my watch."

Startled, she fell from the stool she had been standing on and hit the floor with a resounding thump. No doubt it must have been odd to see the normally dignified Hyuuga consort tumble down like a rotten egg tipped over, but she didn't care. She couldn't care about anything else except the dark storm brewing in her belly, threatening to overtake her once more.

Freedom had been within her grasp, and all she had to do was reach a little bit further. Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hinata rolled onto her side and curled into a fetal position. She dug her fingers into the roots of her hair and pulled. Pain, that's what she needed to feel right now. Sweet pain. Distracting pain. It made her forget all the bad things - like watching as Shikamaru was publicly decapitated, or seeing a child burned alive as his mother and father (suspected rebels) were forced to watch, or, heavens forbid, _that_ humid night in August.

Her guest sighed. "Well, that's unfortunate," he said flatly as he regarded her current state.

Hinata was far too gone to bother to look up as her visitor crossed into the room, his feet padding quietly on the tatami mat as he approached. He came to a stop before her, and Hinata imagined the disdainful glint in his eyes as he looked down upon her pathetic form.

Don't let him see you cry, she thought desperately, eyes screwed shut.

"Come on now, Hinata-chan, we wouldn't want any of the servants seeing you like this. It would give a bad impression of our master."

He's not my master, she thought hollowly.

He'll _never_ be my master.

Very slowly, as if a plug had been pulled from the bottom of a tub, the manic fever began to drain away until the world finally became clear again. Thank the Heavens, she thought.

Hinata couldn't exactly pinpoint when and where these episodes had started, or if they would ever go away, all she knew was that they took a little bit more of her each time. The imperial physician had once told her that it was only temporary and that her mind was only trying to cope with all the changes. _Changes, _he had said so nonchalantly. It was such a severe understatement that Hinata had started giggling in the physician's face right then and there before dissolving into a fit of sobbing so rough that Madara had to be called in.

Ever since then, she would sometimes hear the servants gossiping behind her back.

_Crazy. _

_Demented. _

_Not right in the head, that one._

All she wanted was to be normal again. She prayed to the heavens, to every god that she knew, to take her away from this hell. To bring back her family and friends. To make her clean once more.

And the gods would reply, _stand up, girl. Stand up and keep going. Persevere. _

And so she did so to the best of her abilities. Even if it meant going insane.

Hinata undid the death grip on her hair and let her hands slip to the floor.

Just for a while longer, she thought idly. She would have to stay in this world just a little bit longer, that was all.

Heavens, she was tired. So tired that she didn't even resist as her guest grabbed her and forced her upright into a kneeling position. Minding her manners, a trait that would never leave her apparently, she placed her hands in her lap and waited . . .

. . . just like a little doll waiting to be played with.

Self-loathing twisted in her stomach. She wanted to throw up.

_Stop_, she quickly reminded herself sharply.

Save face.

Pushed by the need to prove that there was still at least an ounce of Hyuuga within her, no matter how faded it may be, Hinata forced her tears away and willed herself to feign the cold demeanor that her clan had been famous for.

Hyuuga do not break, she thought, regaining her composure.

Hyuuga do no cry.

Hyuuga, above all, are dignified.

Never forget that.

Please, please, please don't forget that.

Be strong.

Remember.

_Remember!_

As soon as enough strength had been gathered, Hinata inhaled deeply through her nose, convinced that she was no longer on the verge of crying. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked blankly up at the face of her unwanted visitor - Yakushi Kabuto.

"Hello," he said with a kindly grin.

None of that kindness was real. There were thousands things that she could not guess about Kabuto, but what she did know was that beneath all his gentility was a snake lurking in the grass.

He steadied her once more before backing away to an appropriate distance. Kabuto did this in respect for Madara who made it very clear that he didn't like people touching his things. And of course, Hinata was Madara's favorite piece of property. Had it not been for that, Kabuto would've taken every opportunity to invade her space simply because he knew it made her uncomfortable.

"Thank you," she said quietly, but actually meaning _don't touch me._

Taking a breath, Hinata swiftly gathered up her kimono and rose as elegantly as she could without tripping on the hem, defiantly ignoring the hand that offered to help her up. Once on her feet she began to walk away from him as quickly as possible.

Sensing her need to escape, Kabuto deliberately placed himself in her path. Hinata paused, refusing to meet his gaze. Years had gone by and he still looked remarkably monstrous with pale snake-like skin and yellow eyes. He leered at her from over the top of the round spectacles he always wore, even as a beast-man hybrid. It looked odd, she had always thought. _He _was odd.

Politely, he smiled, but it still managed to make her skin crawl. She was sure that was the intended effect.

"You are very lucky that it was me who walked in and not Madara-sama, Hinata-chan," said Kabuto with thinly veiled derision.

She nodded if only to get him away from her. When that didn't work, she strategically side stepped him and hastily continued on to the other side of the room. Taking up half of the southern wall of her room was a large and intricate vanity table with a mirror. Like all the furniture in her room, the vanity had been hand crafted out of rosewood and gold by the best artisans in the nation.

That was one thing she could say about Madara, he always ensured she had the finest.

_My timid little dove must have a pretty cage, _he had once said.

Hinata took a seat before the mirror with a frown.

On the corner of the vanity's counter was a collection of brushes, as well as various palettes of makeup and glass canisters filled with creams. Absent-mindedly, she picked out a kabuki brush from her assortment and gingerly swirled it into an open compact of rouge.

Be pretty, she thought.

Be pretty for Madara-sama.

Pretty -

I hate myself.

Pretty -

I want to die.

Pretty, pretty, pretty.

When she was young she never worried about make-up, disliked it actually. No matter what it would always look as though she had tried too hard. After only minutes of wearing it in secret around her room she would scrub it off before anyone had the chance to see her and laugh. Now, she effortlessly applied pink powder to her cheeks without as much as a grimace. Make-up had become just another mask that she now donned.

Meaningless.

It was all meaningless.

Meanwhile, Kabuto busied himself with untying the noose from the rafters.

"Who gave you the rope?" He asked.

"I made it," she said quietly. No one in the palace was insane enough to give her any sharp object, length of rope, or any sort of medicinal herb.

Not after the last time.

"Out of?"

"Fabric from one my kimonos, Yakushi-san," she admitted, not finding any reason to lie. If her kimonos were taken away then so be it. She hated the things anyways. The clothing Madara picked for her was usually gaudy and heavy, lacking all the refined elegance of the Hyuuga. A bitter part of her simply wanted to spite him by taking his presents and turning them into tools to end her life.

"That was very resourceful of you, Hinata-chan," said Kabuto, sounding oddly proud.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"I mean, thank you for your gracious compliment, Yakushi-san," Hinata corrected herself.

But he had already moved on. "I am going to have to report this to Madara-sama."

"Whatever will plea-lea-lease you," said Hinata tonelessly, though she internally cringed at her stutter. Let Madara know that his little toy tried to break herself again. Maybe then he would finally be so annoyed by her antics that he would finally kill her himself.

If only, she thought.

Kabuto seemed satisfied with the answer and continued his task. Just as she finished applying the powder, he approached her yet again and stood stolidly behind her seat, rope in hand.

"You look very beautiful today, Hinata-chan," said Kabuto.

"Thank you," she said, the words coming automatically. It seemed to be the only thing she said nowadays - small, simpering niceties. Nevertheless, she knew that Kabuto was lying. Hinata looked into the mirror with a frown. She would never be beautiful, even dressed with the best silks and the most expensive gems. All the aristocratic beauty of the Hyuuga had passed over her, leaving her only with a face that, at best, could be described as . . . cute.

Despite being twenty-two, she looked girlishly young with her long dark hair pulled back by a pink bow and her wide white eyes.

A consort with a child's face.

How disgusting.

If Kabuto saw the brief streak of hatred in her eyes, he said nothing. Instead, he watched her for a few more moments as she continued to fix her appearance before finally saying, "Madara-sama has called on you for the afternoon, Hinata-chan."

"F-for the Blooming Festival?" She presumed.

"Of course," said Kabuto.

Every year Madara held a festival to celebrate the blooming of the Shinju, the Tree of Chakra that granted him his power. It was the grandest of celebrations that could only be outdone by the Blooming Festival of the following year. She had always hated going, and the only reason she did was because Madara forced her to be there.

"Ah," said Hinata, though still not understanding her role in all of it. Then again, she had never understood Madara's ways – the only thing she could configure was that he confused others as much as he confused her. No one could really comprehend why he would busy himself with a disgraced and plain Hyuuga when he had so many other beautiful and accomplished women within his grasp.

Maybe Madara was blind.

Maybe it didn't matter.

Maybe he even thought she was beautiful.

If that were the case, then perhaps she should mutilate her face so he would be forced to leave her behind.

"Please take care to look your best," said Kabuto, as though he had heard her thoughts. He attempted to sound kind, maybe even brotherly, but she heard the harsh steel beneath everything. Hinata met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. They were black, fathomless, and empty. "Trust me, Hinata-chan, a bruise around your neck would only make Madara-sama upset." The rope in his hand suddenly burst into flames. " . . . I hope you understand."

He gave her a small bow and a smile before swiftly leaving the room. Hinata stared after him, wishing even harder than before that she was dead.

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* * *

**ooo**

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"Make it tighter."

Sounds of fabric fluttering filled Hinata's room as the stylist and his assistants proceeded to beautify her. Well, at least attempt to. At the moment they were trying to find the most fashionable way possible to crush her ribs.

"No, no, tighter."

_Please don't, _thought Hinata, barely able to breath as it already was. Once the assistant untied her obi she took in a gasping breath, not unlike a fish being thrown back into water.

"There's no need to be dramatic, girl," said the stylist with an eye roll. He was a short, feminine looking man who looked every bit his occupation with a bright magenta kimono and spiky hair dyed an electric blue. Garish was the word that came to Hinata's mind each time she looked at Yata, the stylist, but in Madara's new empire, fashion was only as good as the limits it pushed.

"Yata-san, perhaps . . . perhaps n-not as tight," offered Hinata weakly, looking with trepidation at the obi the assistants were now winding up.

"Nonsense," replied Yata with a swish of hand. "It's the latest trend, and we can't have you showing up to the festival looking as though you're anything but the Emperor's main girl."

She grimaced. "I am not h-his . . . main girl."

"Uh-huh. In case you haven't noticed, sweetheart, he's absolutely obsessed with you."

"Of course I've noticed," said Hinata sadly, though no one was paying her any more attention.

By the end of it all, she was standing in the center of the room looking as pretty as a pearl. Yata had forced her into a white kimono that had patterns of leaves embroidered into the silk with gold thread, and had paired it with a simple spring green obi. Her hair hung in a thick braid over her shoulder. Dotting the braid were porcelain plum blossoms that looked expensive enough to feed a village.

All in all, Yata had done a very good job of disguising just how plain she was.

"Ja, amazing as always," said Yata, circling her with the eye of a hawk.

"You've outdone yourself yet again," said one assistant, clapping.

"Inspiring," said the other.

As soon as they were done congratulating each other on being able to transform the Hyuuga consort into a lady worth presenting, they turned to her as though they had just remembered that she was in the room. Three sets of eyes burned into her, yet Hinata said nothing, resisting the urge to blush.

"It is very good, is it not, Hinata?" Asked Yata, looking at her expectantly.

A beat.

"Very," said Hinata in a faraway voice, all the while wondering if she could also make this kimono into a noose.

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**ooo**

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As soon as Yata and his entourage had left in a cloud of perfume and flowers, her escorts had arrived.

Tall and muscular, the men that Madara had hired to guard her, or rather, to ensure that she didn't run away, were beyond intimidating. They wore simple black yukata, and she knew that if they turned around that there would be a small Uchiha fan stitched into the back of their stiff collars – it was the basic uniform of all non-shinobi in Madara's service.

Non-shinobi, Hinata thought bitterly.

As scary as they were, her escorts were simply hired civilians. The very bottom of the tier. There was still a part of her that had enough decency to be offended at the implication of civilians guarding her. Without words, Madara had told her that he saw her so little a threat that he didn't need men with chakra to handle her.

The bitterness slowly dissipated, with only heavy resignation left in its wake. Let the emperor attempt to rub salt in her wounds by having men who, despite their stature, she could've obliterated five years ago. It seemed there was nothing else he could possibly do to humiliate her. If anything, these guards were absolutely unnecessary. Madara had ensured that long ago when he sealed the majority of her chakra paths, leaving only the ones tied to her organs intact. Essentially, she was now useless as a shinobi.

Pushing the thoughts away, Hinata exited her room.

"Hello," she said with a wan smile, bowing to her escorts.

They didn't return the gesture, which she expected. Everyone in the palace, save Yata and Kabuto, had been instructed not to engage with the Hyuuga consort. Company came rarely for her nowadays, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon the manners that she had been taught. Propriety demanded that she still bow and greet, even when no one bowed and greeted in return.

Not succumbing to her emotions was sometimes her only form of defiance. She may be a slave, a whore, but above all she would always be the heiress of the Hyuuga clan. Nothing would ever change that. Not even misery.

"Shall we s-set off, then?" She said before turning and starting down the hall.

Madara's palace was celebrated as the most beautiful piece of architecture in the fire country. Truthfully, it would be treasonous to say otherwise. He had once punished an ambassador for saying that the hydrangeas in the garden were ugly. There were very few things that Madara took pride in, and one of them was his home. Extremely traditional in style, it held true to all the architectural motifs found in the time period that Madara had grown up in. High wooden rafters, hand-woven tatami mats, and painted shoji screens that depicted legendary battle sequences of the greatest Uchiha shinobi.

Hinata and her entourage passed one such sequence – Uchiha Misari from thousands of years ago valiantly fought a fire breathing dragon with only a stalk of bamboo.

Odd as it was, Madara had surprisingly grandiose taste for someone who had spent decades trapped inside a dirt cave. Nothing that was even remotely cheap was allowed to decorate his palace.

Good manners dictated that all the doors were to be slid open so that guests would not feel claustrophobic. At least, that's what she had been taught. Hinata knew Madara well enough to know that he was only allowing his doors to remain open so that he could display all his treasures.

Hinata and her guards wound through the halls, passing these open room that were brightly lit, filled to the brim with trinkets and trophies from around the world. Wind-blown vases from Suna in one room, tapestries from Kumo in another. There was nothing that Madara couldn't get his hands on, and he wanted everyone to know it.

Hinata resisted the urge to frown.

The Hyuuga in her disapproved at such ostentatiousness.

Uchiha had always been such boastful folk, eagerly showing their wealth to all who passed. At least, that's what her father used to tell her when she was a little girl before the Uchiha Massacre occurred. Afterwards, it consequently became bad taste to speak ill of the dead. Sometimes, though, she would hear the older Hyuuga mutter about Uchiha selfishness under their breaths from time to time. Hinata never took any of it to face value. The Hyuuga were many things, and overtly-critical was one of them. But it seemed they were right about Uchiha and their obsession with things that gleamed.

She was brought out of her reverie when someone hurried past her.

Servants rushed to and fro around her, carrying a wide variety of things. Mostly food, but sometimes she spotted cleaning supplies, and even a statue, yet none of them bothered to greet her. If anything they kept their eyes glued to the floor as they passed.

Hinata worried that they would stumble into a wall if they did not look up every once in a while.

After five years, Hinata had learned not to take their indifference to heart. They were simply following orders, but sometimes she saw the questions in their eyes when they thought she wasn't looking.

_Why is she here? _Their eyes would ask.

_Wasn't she part of the resistance? _

_Was that not the one who betrayed the Uzumaki fool? _

And honestly, these were all question she herself didn't know the answers to.

A breeze blew on her, and Hinata looked up. Madara had set up many of the rooms so that there shoji doors that led to both the interior and exterior. The exterior doors were also open, which was where the wind had come from, and Hinata chastised herself for not noticing earlier. She caught glimpses of the garden outside – the only thing she liked about this place. A half-moon was beginning to appear in the sky as the sun faded away, making silhouettes out of the sentries who paced atop the wall surrounding the palace.

Lanterns shone softly on the dozens of guests who milled about the gardens, enjoying the hospitality of the One and True Emperor. They all looked to be having such a good time, laughing, dancing. They all wore masks of the festive variety. Hinata looked out into a sea of boar-masks, of oni, of kitsunes and spirits. It made her uncomfortable that she could see none of their faces.

Suddenly, Hinata felt a chill in her heart, as though someone had their eyes on her. She stilled and immediately began to scan the crowd, but it was ultimately useless. The music played too loudly for her to focus, and the guests themselves seem to be a shifting ocean of colors and masks that blended into one another.

She felt dizzy.

As subtly as she could, Hinata lowered her head and continued on her trek to meet Madara, but continued to glance out of the corner of her eye into the gardens where she _knew _that someone beneath one of those masks had looked at her with enough hatred that she was able to feel it.

A stranger wanted her dead.

The thought should've hurt her, should've made her worried, but all she could think was:

_Kill me tonight, please._

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

He watched.

He waited.

He plotted.

From far away, he observed as Hyuuga Hinata passed through the palace. From his vantage point, he could catch glimpses of her as she walked through the interior's hallway, skipping in and out of his view as she drifted past each room. Rage swelled in him little by little each time she appeared.

He wanted her dead.

He wanted to see her suffer.

Suddenly, her head snapped up and she looked into the crowd straight in his direction. _Shit, _he thought, thinking he had been found out. Maybe, he thought in that moment, she was stronger than the weak little whore he had imagined her to be.

And then she looked away, looking completely unperturbed.

She hadn't felt him after all.

Stupid bitch.

Uchiha Sasuke's eyes narrowed behind the slits in his mask. _I promise, _he thought vehemently, _I will force the life out of you with my bare hands, traitor. _

"What's wrong?" Asked his mission partner, emerging from the crowd to stand beside him. Sensitive to his chakra as always, she put a soothing hand on his shoulder. Sasuke threw her the nastiest glare he could muster before shrugging off her hand.

"I'm fine," he said curtly, turning back to look at Hinata only to find her gone. Disappointment sunk in.

"Are you really?" Asked his partner, voice soft, because with him she always felt the need to be kinder than she really was.

"Tch. Stop worrying."

He didn't like when she worried, hated it actually. They were shinobi. They were part of the damn _Coalition _for fuck's sake. Bad things were bound to happen when you were the number one target on Madara's hit of them was gonna die sooner or later (probably sooner if he was being honest with himself), and the only thing worrying would do would distract them from the mission at hand.

"Fine," she huffed, crossing her arms, "but only if you stop going all super serious avenger on me. I've had enough that for a lifetime, buddy." Her voice was muddled by her mask – an _okame _face with blushing cheeks – but it didn't disguise the irritated tone. Green eyes glinted angrily.

Sasuke adjusted his own mask, a kitsune, with a frown. He didn't want a fight with his only friend left in the world on the night he may just very well die, but he also despised being scolded. "Whatever," he said flippantly after a long moment.

Sakura didn't need to know his plans tonight.

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

Madara instructed that she wait in the tea room.

They arrived within a few minutes. Far sooner that she would've preferred, but honestly, everything was sooner than she would've preferred when it came to Madara.

She stopped at the threshold of the room and stared. Inside, the low tables had been set with an intricate tea set. Bundles of incense were gathered in each corner of the room, and fragrant smoke wafted from their tips, filling the air with the scent of oranges and spice.

"Thank you," said Hinata softly as she bowed to both of her escorts before stepping into the room. Neither replied, but simply took up post on both sides of the doorway.

Folding her hands into the space of her sleeves, Hinata walked to the edge of the room to survey a set of samurai swords mounted on the wall. They seemed to be a very old set, deadly looking too. Her eyes flickered to the insignia on their hilts –they had been made in the Land of Iron. No doubt that even after all this time they would still be able to slice flesh if the Land of Iron's reputation held true. Not that it really mattered. All the samurai who had lived there were killed off during Madara's Second Wave. They wouldn't be worrying about their reputation any time soon.

Shuffling at the door caught her attention. Hinata glanced over her shoulder to see her two escorts bowing at the door. "Uchiha-sama," they said in reverent unison at an approaching figure. Preparing herself, Hinata took a small breath and faced her captor as he stepped over the threshold.

"Madara-sama," she said quietly, bowing low at the waist. "Good evening."

If it weren't for his unnatural rinnegan eyes, Hinata would've considered Madara to be a beautiful man. He had all the dark charisma that the Uchiha had been famous, or rather, infamous for, and wore a simple set of hakama and a _montsuki _kimono, both black, with boots rather than sandals. Long hair tumbled over his shoulder as he smirked at her in a fashion so devious that she imagined horns sprouting from his head.

Hinata surveyed him calmly. One would think that standing before the emperor of the country, and former ruler of the world, would be overwhelming. Instead, she felt nothing.

Not even hatred.

He'd taken even that from her.

"Come," he said abruptly.

She did so, quickly crossing the room.

"Hinata," he said simply, though his voice reverberated off the walls, rinnegan glinting as he spoke. Hinata quickly averted her gaze to the ground. No matter how often she met his eyes, whether it be in public or in the bedroom, it would never cease to make her uncomfortable.

"Yes, M-madara-sama," Hinata said.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Hinata did just that, knowing better than to hesitate. In return, Madara looked at her, as though searching for something. It made her feel so small. Like a lion evaluating a mouse. Everything about him screamed powerful. It poured out of him in malevolent waves. Even with her blocked senses she could feel the push of his aura against hers.

Overwhelming.

Frightening.

Destructive.

"Closer," he demanded.

As commanded, she stepped forward. Disobeying wasn't an option here. Years ago she had fought as hard as could, and when she could no longer use her fists, she became insubordinate in other small ways. Like wearing white when he asked her to wear black, smiling just a bit too falsely, doing everything in her power to remain dignified. Back then, she could never let him forget that even though she was a weak Hyuuga, she was a Hyuuga nonetheless. And Hyuuga did not break. That's something that Neji once told her.

She remained unbroken for a very long time. Four-hundred and seventy-three days to be exact.

"You are thinking of unsavory things," said Madara, drawing her out of her thoughts. Too close, she thought, restraining herself from taking a step back. Lazily, he reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder.

"No, Madara-sama," said Hinata. Her insides twisted at the sound of her own voice. It was so soft and meek, and worst of all, subservient. She hated herself each time she acquiesced to him. Hinata quickly reminded herself that each syllable she spoke in that voice was a betrayal to her friends, but she couldn't help herself. Hinata was positive had he taken any other woman, say Ino, Tenten, or Sakura, there would be at least half a dozen attempts on his life by now. Perhaps that's why he chose her. He had sensed her weakness.

Suddenly, the hand that he had rested on her shoulder came up and gripped her chin so hard that it nearly bruised. Hinata flinched as he forced her face very near to his. He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip.

"No is a very good answer, Hinata. I am always pleased to find that you are doing well. Speaking of which, I have received news from Kabuto about your most recent _activities." _He said activities as though she had been gardening rather than trying to kill herself. "I enjoy you, girl. Please do well to remember how fortunate you are, but if you do not, perhaps I could be as cruel as you imagine me to be and replace the pillows in your bed with the head of your father."

Hinata clutched the silk of her kimono and nodded as well as she could with him holding her chin. Hinata bit the inside of her cheek as he abruptly let go. "Yes, Madara-sama," she said, her indifference quickly reverting back to fear.

Smiling, Madara turned and began towards the door. "Very good. Now, wipe that pathetic look of your face – yes, that will do. Look like you're pleased to be alive as we welcome our guests."

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

"Was that necessary?" whispered Sakura, looking guiltily at the corpse that he had dragged behind the bushes. "The guy was just doing his job, he-"

"Everyone who chooses to work under Madara is a traitor," replied Sasuke curtly. He had his back to her as he shrugged on the dead man's serving uniform. "Even someone as low as a waiter."

Sakura bristled at that, but didn't reply. She knew as well as he did that if you weren't with them, then you were against them. No one could be trusted, and no one could be spared. If she didn't like it then he could always find a new partner who could deal.

With a _hmph_, Sakura readjusted her kimono and readied herself to step out from the shrubbery. "He wouldn't have talked. We could've just taken his uniform and let him go," she said resolutely, as if it would change anything now. Before he had a chance to call her out for stupidity, she dispelled her jutsu that had been keeping them hidden and silenced from the outside world, and all the sound of the festival flooded back into the space.

He sat there for a moment before turning back to the man he had killed. _You would have talked, _thought Sasuke viciously towards the body. _They always do. No how matter how much they promise that they won't. _

_You're all traitors and liars._

A long time ago, he had learned that the hard way.

He guessed that was the only good thing he could say about that Hyuuga bitch – she had taught him the most important of lessons.

No one could be trusted.

They all thought she was loyal. None of them expected for one of their own, especially not _her_, to be the one to do them in. But in the end, always in the fucking end, life has a way of saying "_think again". _And so it was little, quiet, good Hinata who became the reason why so many of his friends now lay deep in the earth. The reason as to why Naruto, his best friend, his _brother_, had been brutally murdered like some sort of fucking animal.

And tonight . . . he would return the favor.

Tonight, he would change everything.

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.

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

**Revised: 5/25/2014**


	2. Unravel: Part II

_Disclaimer: _Characters and world belong to Masahi Kishimoto

_Warnings: _Dark. M-rated. Expect any and everything.

**For clarity's sake: **The drabbles at the beginning are from Hinata's past.

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* * *

She was seventeen and brave.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself when she came face to face with a pack of hunter-nin. There were nine of them blocking the dirt road, nearly obscured by the early morning mists. Hinata didn't have to see the fan emblem on their backs to know they were from Madara. Her heart beat fast as she slid her gaze over every single one of their bone-white masks.

"Hyuuga Hinata," said a hunter-nin with the monkey mask. He took a step forward to differentiate himself as the leader.

"I'm sorry, shinobi-san, but you have the wrong person," said Hinata politely as she tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. Of course they didn't have the wrong person, but she highly doubted that the last known image they had of Hyuuga Hinata in their records matched the girl standing before them. For the past year she'd gone by Tanaka Kazuko, a civilian, and Kazuko had short black hair and dark eyes and was gaunt with malnourishment.

"Hyuuga Hinata," he simply repeated. "You're to come with us."

"Ah . . ." said Hinata. Her hands twitched at her sides and her toes shifted in her shoes. She suddenly felt too hot. Her mind took in everything at once – Her chakra was low. Thick forests lined each side of the road. A buzzard circled high up above in the cloudy sky. One of the hunter-nin was slowly reaching for the kunai in his belt. Hinata took a breath and began again. "Ano, shinobi-san, perhaps-"

She suddenly darted into the tree bank.

"_Shit!" _She heard one of them yell before they began hot pursuit.

They won't catch me, thought Hinata, charging whatever chakra she had left into her legs. She was leaping and ducking, weaving and diving, never once looking back.

She was seventeen and brave and she would _not _be caught.

* * *

**A Hundred Evils  
_Unravel:_ 1.02**

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

Madara's palace was a sprawling place.

It was far larger than necessary, as well as archaic in appearance. It looked to have been scooped straight from the history texts and plopped onto the land. Most of the interior had been closed off to the guests, but they didn't seem to mind since they had free domain of the gardens. Dozens of maples in their autumn coats dotted the plain of dark green grass; ponds filled only with red-gold koi fish punctuated the expanse, and all were connected by a single, winding, cobblestone path. That's how the gardens got its rather pretentious moniker – the _Scarlett Pavilion._

Hundreds of expectant guests came together and were not disappointed as they sat in awe of the best entertainment that money could buy. Fireworks. Dancers. Musicians. Everything from the traditional to the outrageous could be found in the pavilion. Throughout this all, Hinata was glued to Madara's side as his consort.

At the moment, Madara was partaking in small talk with one of his direct subordinates, a portly man who served as the imperial overseer to the Land of Rivers. They spoke about trading, or something of the like, when a shooting star lanced across the sky. No one noticed it.

The only one who had was Hinata. She dared to take it as a good luck charm as it blinked across the night. _Dared _being the key word. There wasn't much to hope for nowadays, but she tried to an optimistic eye on things when she could afford to. Just like Naruto used to.

_Naruto-kun . . ._

Hinata closed her eyes, and with the ease of long practice, banished the memory before it could take her to darker places.

When she resurfaced from her thoughts, she noticed that the slip of a girl who hung on the arm of the overseer, Toki, was staring at Madara.

How cute, thought Hinata with a small smile. There were practically hearts in the girl's eyes, not unlike the way Sakura and Ino used to look at Sasuke when they were children.

The girl's aspirations were obvious. She wanted to become Madara's consort, and if not that, then at least one of his concubines. Hinata knew this because she had met countless women with the same dream . . .

Perhaps the girl may have had a chance if Madara's _Infinite Tsukiyomi_ plan had panned out, but it hadn't and now the girl was left to face reality like the rest of them.

Pushing her bitterness aside, Hinata wished the girl all the luck in the world. She would need it. Madara had a bevy of concubines, every single one of them beautiful beyond imagination. They certainly put Hinata to shame. And yet, he never stayed with them for more than a night before he returned to her, a fact that Hinata lamented.

Hinata watched sadly as Toki's companion laughed at nearly everything Madara said, truly proving her infatuation because Madara had a sense of humor as flat as a flounder.

Poor thing. The girl had no idea what lay ahead of her if her naïve little wish came true:

Abandonment.

Yearning.

Loathing.

. . . Or maybe that was just Hinata. Maybe she was thinking far too much into this.

"You look lovely tonight, Hinata-sama," said Toki the overseer, bringing her out of her thoughts with his high and nasally voice.

Without missing a beat, Hinata bowed and offered a quiet, "Thank you ever so much, Toki-san."

"Oh, ho," chucked Toki, sidling closer to Madara. "Tell me, your highness, how is it that you get your woman to be so well behaved? Most of mine always turn out to be so rebellious, it's absolutely infuri-"

Hinata registered his words.

_. . . how is it that you get your woman to be so well behaved?_

_. . . you get your woman to be . . . _

_. . . **your woman **. . ._

The world jarred. Everything was knocked out of focus and went gray and blurry. Years of experience told her that another manic episode was coming on. Hinata bit the inside of her cheek and tried to fight it off, but all she could hear was –

_Your woman. _

_Your woman._

_Your wom-_

**_Stop._**

Sweat began to form on her forehead, and she imagined that all the blood had drained from her face. Quick to mask her inner turmoil, Hinata reached for a cup of a tea from off the tray of a nearby , but found that her hand was shaking. Dazed, she simply stared at it, praying that this fit passed without incident –

_Your woman._

_People were laughing at her. _

Hyuuga Hinata ceased to exist.

_They were all around her._

She had been replaced by Emperor Madara's white-eyed, cold-faced whore.

_They were tugging at her. _

All at once, everything crowded in. It felt hot, far too hot, like the fires of hell itself were lapping at her skin. Suddenly, she found herself transported back to that humid night in August, and there was so much blood.

Blood everywhere.

It seeped into her veins, dyed her skin, and polluted every cell in her body.

It made the air smell like copper.

And pain.

There was so much pain, white hot and _heavens she was **dying.**_

The doctor was yelling at her, demanding that she just breathe. But he didn't know, couldn't know that every part of her was being shred to pieces and that there was no way she could _breathe._

So he kept yelling.

Nothing but yelling.

_Your woman, your woman, **yourwomanyourwomanyourwoman.**_

"Hinata."

Madara's voice sliced through the encroaching madness like a knife. In a flash, Hinata was once again in the gardens with the lousy overseer of Kawa, his lovely companion, and the Emperor. For a moment she was disoriented, and only knew that she was trembling violently. Then she looked up to find Madara peering at her as Toki and the girl, completely oblivious to Hinata's brief mental degradation, busied themselves with their own conversation.

" . . . pass me a cake," Madara said after a beat before her returned to the conversation with an air of finality.

"Ah, yes! I'll have one as well," said Toki loudly.

Hinata was left to herself, and all she could think was that Madara hated cake, hated most sweet things really. Nonetheless, she wipe her sweaty palms on her kimono before grabbing two pastries from a passing platter.

"Very well behaved, indeed," Toki said again, looking right her as she handed him a wrapped cake.

Hinata felt sick.

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

"Poison?" Guessed Sakura, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

Sasuke had been playing the good waiter and organizing the buffet table when Sakura, acting as a noblewoman, appeared at his side. He was about to snap at her for breaking character when she inconspicuously pointed across the pavilion to where Hinata seemed to be having a small seizure.

"No, not that," said Sasuke as he narrowed his eyes. He hoped he was right because he would be furious if someone managed to kill the Hyuuga bitch before he could. For the past seven years Hinata had been number one on his hit list and he'd be damned if he wouldn't be the one to put her in the ground. Fortunately, Hinata's violent tremors came to an abrupt halt.

"Something's wrong with her," said Sakura anxiously.

"So?" Sasuke shrugged and went back to organizing the table. "It's not our problem."

" . . . we need to help her," continued Sakura slowly.

"_No."_

He kept his cool, but it irked him to no end that despite everything Hinata had done, Sakura still considered her a friend. She never said it aloud, knew better not to around coalition members and especially him, but he could see it in her eyes every time Hinata came up in conversation.

"There's no way we're helping her," Sasuke continued. "She deserves whatever she gets."

Unsurprisingly, Sakura rounded on him with a glare so fierce that it would make weaker men run. "We have no idea what she _gets_. What I just witnessed was an obvious symptom of Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Do you know what that means?"

"No, and I don't care either."

Determined, Sakura stamped her foot, drawing a few gazes their way. "It means that she's either going through hell, or that she's already gone through it. Just look at her, he's obviously doing something to Hin-"

"Shut _up!" _Sasuke hissed under his breath. Sakura wasn't stupid, she was actually one of the smartest people he knew, which was why he couldn't comprehend why she had almost just said Hinata's name out loud. That, and why did she think that telling him about Hinata's _trauma _or _stress _would make him any more sympathetic? The bitch had it coming as far as he was concerned.

Damn, his blood was boiling just by thinking about her. He was going to kill Hyuuga Hinata by the end of the night, and he didn't need Sakura trying to convince him otherwise.

Sakura took a breath as if she were going to continue speaking, but Sasuke turned and hit her with a glare so potent, so much more terrifying than her own, that she immediately shut her mouth. Wisely, she finally walked away, her fist clenching and unclenching as she disappeared back into the crowd.

Sasuke didn't watch her go. A second later he felt bad, but that feeling was erased when a wayward memory flashed into his mind.

_Two people on a cliff. _

_Dark hair. White eyes. Small, fragile hands against_ Naruto's_ chest. _

_She pushed. _

_Naruto fell, and fell, and fell. _

_Sasuke reached out his hand in vain. He was too far away and could only look up in horror. _

_It seemed that Naruto was frozen then, forever falling to his death with the bright blue sky as his backdrop. _

Enough, thought Sasuke. He gritted his teeth and willed himself back to work.

* * *

**ooo**

* * *

Surely, this was the party of the year.

And Hinata hated every second of it.

Midnight was nearing and the festival showed no signs of slowing. While the rest of the empire suffered through poverty, these people continued to feast until they were complaining they felt sick, and then they drank as if it were a contest to see who could get alcohol poisoning the quickest. It was a debacle of immeasurable proportions.

Many of the guests wore masks of the typical variety – smiling, white cats and grinning foxes – symbols of good luck and prosperity. Prosperity for who exactly? Thought Hinata. Certainly not for the rest of empire. Only for themselves.

Most of these people had never known a day of struggle in their life. The nobility of Madara's new empire was made up mostly of extraordinarily rich civilians and shinobi who had sided with him during the wars.

They were awful.

Thankfully, Madara departed from the gardens and into the throne room, the only part of the palace left open for guests. She trailed after him through doors so large that they rivaled the gates of Konoha in size. It took ten men to open those doors, but they had been left open for the occasion.

The throne room was absolutely magnificent. It was perfectly round, and the walls were paneled with pure gold. Carved into the gold were relief sculptures of animals – bears, cranes, tigers, and so many more. But this paled to the real attraction in the room – the Shinju.

The God tree.

Its long stalk sprung up through the roofless room, rising so high, higher than anything that Hinata had ever seen, so high that its bulb seemed to brush the belly of the half moon. The thing was beyond monstrous, far more terrifying than any of the tailed-beasts, than surging armies, than nearly anything she had ever seen.

And somehow, Madara had leveled the grounds about its mountain sized roots and built his palace around it. He had looked at this creation of true hell and had decided, _yes_, this seems like a very good place to build my ridiculously large home.

It was almost blasphemous.

It was a thing of awe.

The only thing that terrified Hinata more than the God Tree was the man who had tamed the God Tree - the man who had dared to place his throne at the very base of it.

The throne itself was worked out of the Shinju's wood, creating an ugly, brutal seat that had been embedded with rubies and obsidian. Like a panther, Madara lounged in the seat, legs spread in a lax, almost in a provocative manner, all his muscles relaxed and a slight grin on his face, seemingly daring anyone - friend or foe - to approach.

Those who are brave enough, or as Madara once put it, worthy enough, summoned the courage to near their emperor.

Hinata liked to play a game with these people. With nothing to do but stand beside a throne all night, she entertained herself by seeing who was preparing to approach Madara. It was really quite easy. She could catch them before they even took one step in their direction.

First, they would start whispering to their friends. Then, they would begin their trek through the crowd, undoubtedly apprehensive as they slinked their way through. Yet the moment they thought they were in range, they would wipe all nervousness off their faces and square their shoulders before making their way up to the dais, the eyes of the entire room following them.

It was ironic that she only learned how to read people when she lost her Byakugan. Reading emotion, even from the most tedious of people, came easily to her. She would've been proud of herself had it not been for the way this skill came to be.

Her eyes caught a red-headed woman making her way through the crowd, completely disregarding all of the aforementioned rules.

Lady Makoto of the Yutoro clan. She was one of Madara's courtesans from Sunagakure who had a good name, as well as a good temper. With her vivid red hair and bright brown eyes, she was known as one of the most beautiful women in the empire, something that was not lost on the Lady.

Hinata would catch glimpses of her sometimes. She was usually surrounded by other courtesans, tittering about something or another, acting as their de facto leader. Of all of Makoto's traits, her confidence had to be her best feature. She was the sort of woman who threw her head back and laughed, unafraid of judgment. The sort of woman who dared to look the world straight in the eye and smile. The sort of woman Hinata longed to be.

This was not the same Makoto who shambled towards the throne.

This Makoto's eyes were bloodshot and tired, face grim, and her hair wild and loose around her head. She looked dead on her feet.

"Your highness," Makoto said with a bow once she finally reached the dais that the throne sat upon.

"Lady Yutoro," Madara replied levelly, taking in her condition. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"The honor is all mine, your highness." Makoto bowed once more, but when she came back up, Hinata saw that she seemed unsettled. She looked closer and saw a bit of manic in Makoto's bright eyes.

Oh no, thought Hinata, already knowing that this would not be good.

Apparently, the entire room sensed it as well, having quieted to dead silence the moment Makoto opened her mouth.

Suddenly, Makoto launched into a story about how she had been treading through the corridors to visit another courtesan, when she encountered a group of Madara's soldiers. She gave their names – Hosu, Jineki, Hong - all men that Hinata personally knew to be slime. She said that she passed them, but they seemed drunk, and said lewd things to her.

"I didn't reply your highness," said Makoto with barely subdued hysteria. "I swear."

She continued on to say that they wouldn't leave her alone, so she walked faster. They also walked faster. Finally, she began to run, but she couldn't outpace them.

Hinata turned her head away at this point.

There were countless reports of assault against civilian women in Madara's new empire. Even women in the royal court weren't safe apparently.

A long time ago, Madara promised a kingdom of peace. A place where no man, woman, or child would ever be hurt again. Hinata regretted stopping him from creating that kingdom. Sleeping forever seemed so much better than this hell that they were all living in.

She thought she had been so brave then, facing down Madara completely by herself with no weapons or chakra left in her system.

Fool.

And now she was a coward, even more so than when she was a child. She couldn't even listen to poor Lady's Makoto's testimony in fear that it would dredge up memories of her own.

" . . . And that's when they left me your, your highness," Makoto finished her horrific account of assault from Madara's high soldiers. Hinata willed herself to remain stone-faced throughout the entire thing, absolutely sure that Makoto spoke the truth. Madara's men were just as vile and completely without morals as their master was.

No doubt that they forced themselves onto Makoto.

No doubt at all.

The only one allowed onto the dais alongside Madara was Hinata, and she took her place to the right and just behind his throne. Out of sight, yet completely in your face as well. Makoto glanced between her and Madara for a good minute as the latter took his time to reply, everything in her gaze saying _help me._

Hinata felt the urge to step down and comfort Makoto, but didn't dare.

Finally, Madara said, "What is it that you want me to do about this?"

"I want them dead," Makoto answered immediately. She stood rigidly, yet trembled, not unlike a dam holding back the flood. "I want blood."

A chilling silence filled the throne room for the space of three heart beats - and then, Madara started to laugh, his mirth cruel and unforgiving in light of the tension. "Now, now, my dear Makoto. Losing one of my elite guard in battle is a tragedy. These are men that I have trained, many of whom I have practically raised." He raked his hand through his hair. "I won't entertain the thought of _voluntarily_ killing any of them, regardless of the crimes they commit."

Hinata knew what breaking looked like, and in that moment Makoto broke.

Makoto launched herself onto the platform accompanied with the sound of a dozen affronted gasps from the onlookers. Madara could've easily kicked her away, but

for some reason he didn't. For some reason he allowed her so close that she was able to lay her forehead on her knees. "How can you say that?" She cried, clutching at the hem of his hakama with desperate fingers. "They hurt me. They _took_ me."

"You have had a horrible day, girl," soothed Madara, he gently grabbed her chin and turned her to look at him. "However, you are still a whore. My whore, in fact. Those are my men and they've been working quite diligently. I'm sure they were in need of relaxation– and you gave that to them. They will work harder because of you, and that is a good thing. Be proud of yourself, Makoto, you have pleased me."

". . . I . . . please. . ."

"Now, stop this embarrassing charade before I slit your throat." With that, Madara let Makoto's chin slip from his grasp and leaned back into his throne with a malevolent grin.

Makoto blinked, but said nothing as she slowly rose.

Hinata knew that look on Makoto's face; she saw it on her own face the day she slit her wrists.

"Thank you, your highness," Makoto said with a low bow before backing away, abruptly turning, and just about fleeing from the room. The crowd of onlookers composed mostly of tipsy guests parted ways for her, all eyes following before she finally disappeared out the doors.

As soon as she did though, the room broke into laughter. Even Madara allowed himself a chuckle. The only one who didn't laugh was Hinata.

I'm sorry, thought Hinata, her heart breaking for the girl. I'm so sorry that happened to you, Lady Makoto.

"Hinata," said Madara lowly as he surveyed the crowd, "did that bother you?"

" . . . Yes, Madara-sama. I-it did." She didn't dare look at him as she said this.

"Why?"

"I worry that you w-would allow those men to have me as they did Lady Makoto . . ."

"Don't worry," Madara laughed. "I would paint the walls red with the blood of any man who dared to touch you."

Hinata's blood ran cold.

Not long after, Madara motioned for one of his stewards. The steward kneeled before his emperor, and Madara said something so quietly that even Hinata could not hear him. It was brief, but the steward nodded with understanding, and waited to be dismissed.

Immediately afterwards, Madara rose from his throne, and began to leave. He paused before her.

"Come," he demanded.

The viciousness in his voice jolted her into taking a step back. "O-of course, Madara-sama," she said, but he had already turned away and started down the aisle. For a moment, she stared at his retreating figure, eyes wide with anxiety as she imagined every possibly scenario that may occur in the next few hours.

Don't go, her heart said, he'll hurt you.

Go, her good sense said, otherwise he'll hurt you more.

"Heavens," she whispered in prayer before gathering her wits and hurrying after him.

She didn't even notice as a waiter in a fox mask stared after her, red eyes glowing.

* * *

**__****ooo**

* * *

_Five years, _thought Hinata as she stepped into Madara's quarters.

Five years that she's been his captive. Five years that she's been his whore. Well, that wasn't true. Not really. He didn't touch her until a year after her capture, and before that he couldn't be bothered to so much as spare her a glance. Three-hundred and seventy-two days in a cell, and three days past her eighteenth birthday – that's how long it took for him to come for her. One night he simply showed up and cornered her, chest heaving and eyes on fire . . .

After that first night, he plucked her from the dungeons and shoved her into a lavish room, all without a word.

To this day he still hasn't told her why he came for her, and she made it a point not to ask.

In order to survive her guilt, Hinata managed a passive resistance towards Madara. Which was easy because he demanded that she not speak unless spoken to, but even then, she kept her responses short and polite and betrayed nothing about herself. In all her years with him, she has only opened up to him once.

She couldn't become comfortable with him. Refused to. To allow herself to be content would be akin to betraying her friends all over again, and she would not let that happen again. Never. Still, it seemed irrelevant to try. How could not speaking to him possibly redeem her when he fucked her every other night?

It didn't make sense.

Then again, none of this made sense.

These were her thoughts as she approached Madara's four poster bed. Not looking back, Hinata waited until she heard the door slid closed, and then with a soft sigh she began to untie her obi with deft hands. She did this quickly and expertly, not bothering with any of the slow tantalization that she had once overheard Makoto's band of courtesans talking about.

"Stop."

Madara's command echoed throughout the dark room. His voice was rough, lower than usual. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, as if daring her to disobey him.

Immediately, her hands paused above the intricate front-facing bow. As quick as a thought, Madara had crossed the distance between until he was standing directly behind her. His hot breath curled against the exposed skin on her neck. Close, thought Hinata. Too close. A hand crept around and pressed against her lower stomach. With a growl, he crushed her to him, his hand keeping her still so that she could feel how hard he was for her.

She whimpered.

He chuckled.

"See what you do to me," he breathed.

Hinata couldn't stop the blush that started to cover her entire body. From toe to head, she was turning pink all over, heat traveling through her despite her wishes.

His left hand joined the other and he began to gently tug at her spring-green obi. "I do not like this color on you," he said before leaning forward to kiss the side of her neck. This distracted her as one hand reached back into his pocket. When he brought it back forth, he was holding a glinting kunai.

Instinctively, she began to struggle, but he held fast.

"Now, now," said Madara quietly. "When have I ever hurt you, my little dove."

You hurt me every day, thought Hinata, mind going hazy.

He didn't wait for her to reply as he wedged the sharp edge of the kunai between the fabric of her kimono and the bow. With another chuckle, he sliced through the silk of the sash, and it fell to the ground and gathered around her feet.

"There," he said, roughly grabbing her chin with the same hand that held the kunai. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Without the obi, her kimono was allowed to part freely, exposing the several layers underneath. The layers didn't deter Madara as he slipped each one away with a slow deliberateness, like peeling the petals of a rose away from its core. By then, Hinata had stopped her whimpering, and instead bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

_Forgive me_.

He peeled away the top coat. . . .

_Forgive m_e.

. . . Then the the middle coat . . .

_Please, Please, forgive me_.

Finally, the base coat was pulled away, leaving her only in her undergarments. Her entire body prickled, and Hinata knew that this was one thing she would never be used to. The remains of the kimono slumped around her legs, a ruined hill of silk that was worth millions upon millions now lying on the floor. This is what Hinata tried to think upon when Madara slowly began to unwrap the loose binding about her breasts.

"Why do you even bother to wear these anymore?"

Madara was surprisingly impatient for having spent years doing nothing but sitting in a dirt cave. He brandished the kunai once more, and before Hinata had a chance to protest, he slice right through her bindings. Hinata's shut her eyes, but could still see, _feel _him smiling. Madara tossed the kunai and it clattered to the floor.

For a long moment, everything was silent.

Yet it all vibrated and echoed.

She could see it all, had relived these moments in real life and in her nightmares over and over again until it had become part of ingrained memory. Hinata saw herself as he saw her - flushed, and oh so very frightened. She imagined his rinnegan eyes would be alight with lust and that his hands twitched as they longed to claim her once more.

Hinata didn't have to wait a second before his hands were upon her breasts, squeezing so roughly that she gasped in pain. A desperate flame began to bloom in her, but she refused to give into it yet. Not this early.

"Please . . ." she said quietly.

One of Madara's hands dove between her leg, straight to her core. Hinata's gasps increased in pitch as she simultaneously tried to push away from Madara's hand while also trying to find herself closer. It was confusing. She shouldn't want this.

Stop, she thought.

Heavens, please stop.

"Please what, little dove," he said with malicious glee.

Hinata didn't answer.

Because perhaps the most shameful thing that Hinata kept locked away was not that she had betrayed her friends, not that she was forced to be the consort to the man who murdered everyone she loved, but that even with how her stomach squirmed every time he said her name, that her hair stood on end when he was near, and even when he was responsible for making her so low, that in the end-

_. . . .Forgive me, _she thought, as his fingers curled inside her and _heavens, heavens, right there, yes, heavens right there_. . . .

_. . . .Forgive me. Please make him stop. Please make **me** stop. I can't . . ._

_Forgivemeforgivemeforgivemeforgiveme. _Tears were coming to her eyes as hands moved faster and faster, winding her up and taking her higher than the heavens that she prayed so much to. His hand on her breast held her still with iron strength, and his breath was ragged as he muttered incoherently into her hair . .

_. . . .Forgive me,_ she thought, hating herself as he smiled against her neck, knowing that she was on the very edge. Hinata cried out and a hot wracking pleasure came over her, but Madara didn't stop moving his fingers and it was _too much. _He refused to let her go and held her impossibly tight as she trembled and thrashed in his arms. Lights exploded behind her lids again and again and again. . .

- In the end, he lit her body aflame.

And she hated herself for that more than anything else in the world.

* * *

******ooo**

* * *

Hearing Madara fuck the Hyuuga traitor raw was not how he imagined his night would go.

In fact, it was the furthest thing from his mind, and now as he crouched in the hallway just outside Madara's quarters, he really, really _wished _that Madara had chosen to build his walls out of concrete instead of fucking paper-thin shoji. Also, earplugs would've been nice.

On the opposite side of the hall, Sakura was turning as pink as her hair. She was trying very hard to look everywhere but his direction. She huffed and squared her shoulders as if to remind herself to remain focused. Still, little beads of sweat were beginning to appear on her forehead. Her _okame_ mask was slipped back onto the top of her head, and was staring hard out into the darkness, her green eyes glinting with embarrassment.

They hid in the shadows of the corridor, invisible to others thanks to the jutsu that Sakura had developed a few months back. It would only last so long, though. She shouldn't have deployed it so early.

Among the backdrop of Hinata's gasps, moans, and cries, Sasuke listened hard for the sounds of an approaching patrol. And then the sound of bouncing bedsprings echoed throughout the space. Then there was a low growl - Madara. More, unmistakable noises followed. Lewd ones.

Sakura turned from pink to red.

Sasuke rolled his eyes.

* * *

******ooo**

* * *

It took hours before Madara finally finished with her. As always, Hinata drifted off immediately afterwards, curled into a ball with the covers bunched all around her like mini barricade, and more importantly, as far away from Madara as possible.

All night she tossed and turned, though this was expected. She never slept well when she was with him. Nothing but nightmares filled with blood and insanity and things she'd rather not remember. This night was no different. Hinata woke from her dreams with a jolt, but was immediately pulled back down to the bed by a strong arm around her waist. Like always, Madara had found her in his sleep and had pulled her tight to him. He nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, and she wish she could be comfortable, but she was still as stone in his arms, eyes staring listlessly until he woke and gave her permission to leave.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

"Your Highness!" Came a voice at the entrance of Madara's quarters.

Hinata jumped at the sudden intrusion, but Madara simply rose from bed with a growl as though he had never been asleep. He tugged on a simple pair of pants before heading towards the doors at the very front of his quarters with an annoyed look on his face. Hinata clutched the blankets to her chest and peeked out of the open bedroom doors and out into the foyer.

Even though she could only see his back, Hinata could tell that he was extremely agitated as he slid entrance door open. One of Madara's guards knelt before the threshold. The guard wore the customary gear, save for an anbu mask, a tanuki - meant as an insult to the prestigious sect of Konoha. The tanuki stayed on his knees, waiting to be given permission to speak.

"_What?" _Madara ground out.

"A member of the Coalition has been apprehended your highness," said the tanuki.

In an instant, the aura around Madara switched from irritation to glee. "Bring them here," he said, not bothering to ask for a full report. "Bring them here _now." _

_No, _Hinata thought, eyes widening in panic. She held a hand to her mouth to stop any noises as she tried to anchor her confusion, to find a meaning in this newfound information. Coalition members weren't _caught. _It just wasn't possible. At least, it seemed impossible . . . the only one to have been caught was, well, her.

For seven years the Coalition had managed to evade obliteration. They were like smoke, like whispers in the wind. They would come and go, leaving hell in their wake. Overturned shipments, assassinated key figures in Madara's regime, spreading anti-imperial propaganda, raided and stole, doing anything in their power to weaken the empire.

Needless to say, Madara didn't like having his power being threatened. After three years, Madara's spies finally found their headquarters - a mass underground bunker in the former Iwagakure - and he orchestrated an assault unlike the world had ever seen. 562 water-affinitive shinobi had been gathered and were ordered to flood the bunker. For an entire night they did this; spewing boiling water into the bunker, making the ground swell until geysers began to form.

Screams of the dying coalition sounded through the entire city.

Madara had told her that it sounded like music.

After the task was completed he went down himself to verify.

And found absolutely nothing.

It had been a rouse.

To this day, the Coalition survived, thrived even, the only opponents to Madara's iron rule.

Coalition - an unstoppable force.

The last hope for the free world.

Her friends.

But . . .

No, stop worrying, she abruptly thought.

They weren't her friends. She needed to stop being stupid. Her friends', her real friends', heads were hanging atop poles outside the mansion. Mouths wide open with their eyes being devoured by maggots. The people of the Coalition didn't want her, had hunted her for such a long time . . . they were just people that she used to know.

Nothing more.

Still, she couldn't help but want to cry, hoping that it wasn't someone she knew.

Madara had finished his conversation with the guard by the time Hinata returned from her thoughts. Now, Faint shouts were coming from the down the hallway, as well as the sound of struggling and clinking of metal on metal. Her stomach dropped.

Even if they were no longer her friends, she couldn't possibly bear witness to this.

Quickly, she leapt from the bed, ran to Madara's wardrobe, and grabbed a yukata. She shrugged it on, not even caring that it was far too large, and made her way down the foyer to where Madara waited for his newest guest. He glanced back at her as she approached, eyes betraying nothing at her daring behavior.

"May I leave?" Asked Hinata as soon as she was within range.

Despite whatever she felt inside, she'd learned to keep a cool face. Revealing emotions meant revealing weakness.

Surprise flickered onto Madara's face, barely perceptible. Normally Hinata wouldn't speak out of turn, it was one of the rules he had for her. Speak only when spoken to. For a moment she thought that he would strike her for her boldness. Instead, he smiled. A crooked, unsavory smile that didn't look right on him.

"No," he said simply. "You'll stay here."

She didn't argue. Even if she had it still wouldn't have mattered. There wasn't any time left.

Just as Madara finished his sentence, the captive was brought into view, struggling wildly in the grasp of two guards. Trailing behind them was the tanuki, hand ready at his kunai should anything happen. Madara's men weren't normally an overly cautious lot, too full of themselves to consider anything else a threat - but something about this captive had gotten to them. The rebel's heads was covered with a heavy black bag and his wrists and ankles were shackled with what Hinata knew by first-hand knowledge as chakra-depleting manacles.

"The captive, your majesty," said one of the guards even as his charge elbowed him in the stomach.

"Bring them in," said Madara, stepping aside so that they could drag the prisoner inside. Madara watched with barely concealed delight as the guards roughly threw the captive to the ground of the foyer.

The captive crashed to the floor with a low growl. His manacles glowed blue before returning to gray, swallowing up any of the chakra the prisoner had just attempted to release.

Madara surveyed the new man, eyeing his plain green flak jackets – the uniform of the former Allied Shinobi forces. Now, it was the uniform of the rebels, of the Coalition. Hinata said a silent prayer for whoever laid beneath that black bag. Nothing good waited for them.

"Let me see him," said Madara.

The captive struggled to get up, but one of the guards put his foot square in their back and shoved them back down to the floor. He gestured to his partner and the other guard nodded before delivering a swift kick to the captive's ribs. As the captive grunted in pain, the guard yanked off the black bag, revealing a severely bloodied and bruised Uchiha Sasuke, face twisted in pain.

_No!_

They'd never been friends. Never actually been companionable with one another, but Sasuke had always been Naruto's dearest friend, and Naruto . . . well she had always loved him. Even now. Always. The thought that the person that he loved most being subjected to Madara's wills made her stomach flop. Not only that, but Sasuke was the Coalition's greatest fighter, their ace.

Yet here he was. The one who could finally bring hope to the world . . . and he was about to be put through heavens knew what. Madara wouldn't just kill him. No, Sasuke was too valuable for that. Panic seeped into Hinata's nerves and she thought that her heart might burst from how fast it was beating. However, throughout it all, she maintained a façade of cool elegance.

For all her worrying over Sasuke, he didn't look even the slightest bit troubled by his predicament. Then again, this was _the_ Uchiha Sasuke, the only man to battle Madara one on one on the battlefield who lived to tell the tale. Rebel life had been good to him, but of course, he had always been a beautiful man. Though he had changed drastically over the years. He was no longer the slim, moody sixteen year old she had last seen by the fireside. He was taller now, more muscular, and a bit darker from probably constant days in the sun. He scowled defiantly up at Madara, shouting his dissent without even opening his mouth.

Fool.

For years he had been told they were best, and now here he kneeled, looking fearlessly into the face of death. Hinata would've scoffed at his ignorance had she not been so petrified. You were once like them, a part of her reminded. She quickly pushed it away. Once was a very long time ago.

"Ah," started Madara, languid and slow. "I knew you would be returned to me, Sasuke."

Sasuke glared back ferociously. "Fuck off."

Stop that, Hinata admonished internally.

"So . . . spirited," said Madara loftily, though Hinata could hear the contempt in his voice. He didn't like to be disrespected. "Such a pity you're working for the wrong side. Not that it would make any difference. Obviously, you are incompetent as a spy. Tell me, what should I do with you?"

Madara circled around her prey. Sasuke's eyes followed him the entire time, his mind ticking with what she knew were possible escape plans. Sasuke had yet to notice her presence, but she had always been invisible to him. For Sasuke, the only people who had ever existed to him were Team 7, his brother, and anyone who could make him stronger.

She doubted that she had even crossed his mind.

Madara continued. "Should I keep you? Make you into a servant? Or perhaps I should strip you of your chakra and sell you as a slave. Or maybe I should trap you in a genjutsu for the rest of your life, like I did your friend . . . what was his name, oh yes, Suigetsu." Madara paused and smiled like a shark. "How does that sound, _boy_?"

When Sasuke didn't answer, Madara made a move that surprised even her. "What do you think, Hinata?"

He turned back to her Sasuke's eyes followed, immediately narrowing once they landed on her. His glare was so deep and penetrating that she thought he may just very well burn a hole into her face. Hinata knew what he was thinking and almost hated him for it.

At first, Hinata didn't answer Madara. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, wondering how she must've looked to her former ally. Seven years had passed since she had last seen a member of the Coalition. In the two years that she was on her own in hiding, she had heard whispers here and there of their exploits. Of how they fought to feed the starving people of the freed nations. And here Hinata sat, wearing a red yukata that not only had cost enough money to feed a village for months, but also belonged to the man who had ruined all their lives.

Madara's question hung in the hair, and he would only wait so long until he became angry. Thousands of thoughts raced through Hinata's head. Sasuke, no matter how much she disliked him, didn't deserve to be left to Madara's cruelty. Hinata decided on the kindest answer she could muster.

" . . . kill him."

Madara didn't hear the regret in her voice, or sense the sadness in the way she said it, all he must've seen was how cold and callous he had managed to make her. And he smiled at her. Genuinely smiled. Hinata quickly averted her eyes.

She didn't do this for him.

Hinata looked back at the captive, willing herself to remain stoic. It was for the best for him to die quickly. There was no escaping now. It was best to go quickly than to go in agony, but that didn't stop her heart from breaking at the look in Sasuke's eyes, as if she had just proven everything he had ever thought about her.

Gods have mercy on him, Hinata thought. Please.

"Traitor," Sasuke hissed. Hatred glimmered in his black eyes. Had this been seven years ago it would've frightened her. But it wasn't seven years ago, and so much time had passed, and Hinata just didn't care anymore.

"Yes," she admitted.

"I'm sorry," said Hinata, truly meaning it. "There's nothing I can do." She folded her hands before her and bowed. He looked so tired, so beaten. Yet she knew that he would keep fighting until there was nothing left. He would destroy himself simply because that's who he was. The personification of the Will of Fire. The flames of his passion would consume everything he touched, even if it killed him.

From the corner of her eye she could see Madara watching her. His arms were crossed and he looked oddly pleased with himself. For the first time, Hinata found herself wanting to murder him.

Hinata wished she could've cried, but there was nothing left in her. Every bit of her was buried away, and she refused to let it resurface. She couldn't bear to hear this anymore lest Madara find something else to torture her with. No, thought Hinata. No more.

"Forgive me," said Hinata, turning back towards the bedroom. There, she would slide the door shut, curl into a ball, and sleep until she forgot this night ever happened.

"I don't think so," said Sasuke. Hinata's looked sharply over her shoulder and was shocked to find his face black with rage. The air felt charged about them, and she looked down at Sasuke to see sparks of lightning bursting from his back. "I'll _never _forgive you, Hyuuga."

It all happened in the span of a second.

He looked her straight in the eye as he broke his shackles. It happened so quickly that she was barely able to register what was happening. It was like watching lightning, like water slipping through her hands, impossibly quick.

Then Sasuke moved. What she witnessed was like steel cables snapping under three hundred tons of pressure. Hinata's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively hit the floor, barely escaping the chakra-fueled kick that Sasuke had swung at her head. They met eyes once more in a moment that would forever be in her mind – him suspended in air before her, complete unadulterated fury radiating from every fiber of his being - before a hand zipped in from the corner of her vision, grabbed Sasuke's arm and snatched him right out of her view.

Her head snapped to the side just in time to see Madara swing Sasuke against the ground with such force that the hardwood shattered. Still holding onto Sasuke's arm, Madara swung him once more as though he were ragdoll, and slammed him back down down.

"Well, well, well, you are full of surprises, aren't you, Sasuke?" said Madara maliciously. Then, he lifted his foot and stomped on Sasuke's shoulder. Without having seen it, Hinata knew that that shoulder was now crushed to pieces.

Sasuke did too.

He yelled out in pain.

Apparently that was signal, because from the wall closest to Madara, a figure smashed through the screens. Sakura, fist poised and glowing and headed straight for Madara's head. She looked so fierce, like a warrior from the ancient times, and that was how Hinata would always remember her. Eyes flashing, mouth open in a scream, completely and totally prepared to protect the one she loved at all costs.

And then Madara smirked.

He flickered out of sight just as Sakura's punch landed, ruining the floor even more. Madara appeared right behind Sakura, and Hinata screamed. With a smile, he plunged his fist into her back and straight through her chest.

Silence.

And then laughter.

"You tried that last time, did you not? It didn't work the first time, and it takes for you to die for you to finally learn your lesson," said Madara flatly before sliding his hand out from Sakura. She fell to her knees.

"S-sasuke . . ." she said. Her eyes shifted from vivid to dull and she fell face forward, inches away from the only man she had ever loved in her entire life.

It was odd. In that moment, Hinata recalled when she faced Pain. How he pierced her body, how he laughed, and Naruto . . . she remembered those last few seconds before the darkness. Naruto, the pain in his eyes, the absolute _rage. _It was exactly the same with Sasuke. But instead of transforming into a beast, Sasuke transformed into a monster. His Sharingan sprung to life and the air around them flattened with raw killing intent.

He rushed Madara with a scream of anguish. Hinata was almost sure he was going to be repelled immediately, and Madara did too, apparently, lifting his arm out to catch Sasuke's punch. That's why it was so surprising when Sasuke's punch landed straight into Madara's sternum and sent him flying back through the shoji doors. Madara landed on his feet outside in the hallway and began to laugh again.

"Is that all you've got?"

Sasuke growled and followed him out into the hallway.

Hinata didn't waste a second before she was on her feet, stumbling towards Sakura's lifeless body. "Sakura-chan! Sakura-chan!" She yelled, falling to her knees before her former friend. _She's dead, _her mind yelled at her, but Hinata refused to listen as she turned Sakura onto her back and felt for a pulse, completely ignoring the gaping hole where her heart had been.

Funny how Hinata thought she could never feel pain again. Not the dull, throbbing pain that painted her world gray, but the hot, vivid white pain where the world just cracked around you. Hinata hadn't felt that latter pain in a very long time, thought she had been incapable of doing so after seeing so many of her friends executed or slaughtered.

She was wrong.

Her whole entire chest burned with agony as she stared into Sakura's unseeing eyes. A scream bubbled in her throat, but she shoved it down. Down, down, down where no one could find it. Be strong, Hinata thought. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Once she wouldn't had been afraid to cry, but the world had taught her better since then. The lesson she had learned was keep it locked the way - the pain, the fear, the happiness, keep it all locked away.

The days had made her stoic, but now she found herself unable to anchor on the anger, confusion, or grief. Suddenly, a sob ripped through her throat and tears were falling down her face uncontrollably. Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, Hinata was crying freely and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Oh, Sakura-chan," she said, taking her friend's pale face into her hands. Two sharp senbon fell from Sakura's pink hair and into Hinata's palm. "I am sorry. I am _so _sorry!"

"Not yet, but you will be."

Hinata's stomach dropped as she turned slowly. Sasuke stood in the ruined doorway, mangekyou sharingan swirling madly. His chest heaved as he looked at them. She didn't know which to be more afraid of, the fact that Madara was nowhere to be seen or the manic look in Sasuke's eyes as he crossed over the threshold and advanced.

All her instincts yelled at her to run, but Hinata couldn't move as Sasuke stalked towards her. She couldn't move as he put both hands around her neck. Couldn't move as he shoved her against a wooden beam and began to choke her so hard that he lifted her from the ground.

_I deserve this, _she thought.

_I deserve to die._

And yet . . .

And yet before she knew it, the senbon that had fallen from Sakura's hair and into her hands was heading straight for Sasuke's jugular. He seemed so surprise himself when she stabbed it into his skin, twisting it, barely registering it as his blood squirted from the wound and all over her face.

_What am I doing! _

Hinata's hands shook as she forced the life out of Uchiha Sasuke. She dug the senbon deep and thrust up deeper, unsure why she was doing this in the first place. She wanted to die, hadn't she? She'd been wanting to die for such a long time now.

"Fuck . . ." he said through clenched teeth as blood bubbled from the corners of his mouth.

"F-forgive me," she cried, forcing deeper still. It was as though she had no control of her body. "P-please rest in p-peace."

"Peace?" He said. It must've been so hard for him to talk, but the hatred in his eyes, pure and burning, most likely motivated him. "No, not until this – this is finished . . ." Something flickered in his eyes and he let go of his hold around her neck. Hinata dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks and immediately began hacking and coughing. When she looked back up, Sasuke's hands were moving slowly. Hand-seals. It was sluggish, like watching sap move down a tree. She could only watch in shocked paralysis as his veins began to glow white. And then his skin turned white. And then it was like the white was melting, spilling onto the ground, a puddle grew and reached her in an instant.

It touched her hands first, and spread rapidly, covering every inch of her. It swallowed her up.

The world turned white.

Hinata _screamed._

Then, there was nothing.

.

.

.

* * *

******ooo**

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**AN: **Hi, thanks for reading! Thank you for the overwhelming amount of support for the last chapter :3

I'm so sorry that this took so long to get out; I'm a slow (and very busy) writer. I know this chapter is pretty lengthy and boring at times, and I thank you so much if you managed to trudge through it. I should've broken it apart, but I just wanted to get all the exposition out of the way so I could finally get to the fun stuff.

I know there are a lot of questions and I swear they'll be answered . . . eventually. If you have any questions, go ahead and leave it in the reviews and I'll message you if I'm able to answer.

One thing I think I can answer is the timeline:

- When Hinata is fifteen, Naruto dies  
- She leaves the coalition and goes out on her own for two years  
- Captured when she is seventeen  
- Currently twenty-two

I'll most likely be revising this chapter within the week so it won't be so hard on the eyes, and a little more coherent. I kinda rushed it because I hate not having updated in more than two months. Also, I tend to listen to only one song on repeat while I write a chapter. I find that it helps me center on a single mood while writing. This week it was **_Fragile _by _Tech N9ne_**_,_ and I hope you go give it a listen~

As always, constructive criticism is appreciated. I'm always looking to improve my writing.

See you soon!

xoxo

_Pouf Forayer_


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